


The Gift of Paternal Sincerity

by cattyk8



Category: Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Veronica Mars Holiday Fic Grab Bag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 14:09:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17122832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cattyk8/pseuds/cattyk8
Summary: Logan overspends on his Christmas gift to Keith. But what does Keith give Logan?





	The Gift of Paternal Sincerity

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the Veronica Mars 2018 Holiday Grab Bag prompt #10: “What does Keith give Logan for Christmas?” Being the pathological procrastinator that I am, I wrote it in the early hours of Christmas Eve, and it has not been beta-read or edited beyond basic proofing. So all mistakes are mine to wallow in.

It was Christmas Eve, and Logan was nervous. Veronica had told him he’d overspent on his gift for Keith, but he’d racked his brains for ideas on what to get the guy, who was still recovering from injuries he’d sustained in a car crash he’d been in seven months prior. In the end, there had been very few intersects between the things he thought the former sheriff would like and things that wouldn’t get him into trouble with his girlfriend.

So he’d splurged a little and gotten the lifelong Padres fan season tickets for the upcoming year.

Which had gotten him into trouble with his girlfriend anyway.

“Are you trying to bribe my dad into liking you?” she’d asked him, squinty eyes under furrowed brows, lower lip pouting.

“No, of course not,” he’d said hastily. Then he’d paused. “Do you think that would work?”

She’d huffed and slapped him lightly on the bicep. “Nope.” Popped the P.

He’d laughed. “Honestly, I just couldn’t figure out what else I could get him that he’d like and that wouldn’t encourage him to jump back into working full time again, which would have me facing _your_ wrath. And then I’d have a sheriff _and_ a feral bobcat furious at me.”

“Watch who you’re calling feral there, flyboy.” But she’d been smiling, so he knew he’d gotten off lightly. “Also, my dad hasn’t been sheriff for over a decade.”

“In my mind, he will always be the sheriff who owns a shotgun and thinks of the babe I’m boinking as his little princess. In short, I will always have a healthy fear of the man.”

“You are like twice his size, have your own firearm, and shoot missiles out of planes for a living. Why is one vertically challenged bald man the guy who always turns you into a nervous teenager?”

“Well, you know what they say, first impressions last. And I met your dad when I was a nervous teenager with designs on his daughter. Don’t ask me to change now, I’ve been trained better than Pavlov’s dogs. Season tickets are a small price to pay if it means he can look at me and not think of how often I have you on my dick whenever I’m home.”

She’d laughed and, after some finagling on his part, eventually obliged him by climbing on said dick. Not that he’d tell Keith about that, he thought desperately as he watched the man unwrap the box containing the gift certificate he’d be able to trade in for a book of tickets. _I shouldn’t even be thinking about sex with his daughter. He might be able to read my mind. Or my face. Aren’t there like micro expressions that tell seasoned observers everything you’re thinking about?_

He may or may not have spent a considerable amount of downtime binge-watching crime procedural shows.

“Logan,” Keith said finally. “Son. Thank you, but this is way too much. I can’t accept this.”

He raised his hands when Keith tried to hand the box back. “You’d enjoy them more than I would, since I’m gone so often.” He licked his lips nervously, tugged at the sleeves of the sweater he was wearing. Frowned at the garish greenness of them. “I… I hope you’d like to catch a game with me sometime when we can get our schedules to mesh.”

Keith Mars, private investigator extraordinaire, former sheriff of Neptune, and still-terrifying father of Logan’s pint-sized pit bull of a girlfriend, stared at him for a long moment. Logan used all the discipline he’d learned in the navy to keep from fidgeting.

“Honey,” Keith said finally. “Why don’t you go into the kitchen and make us some hot chocolate to go with those cookies you baked earlier?”

“Dad, what are you going to do with Logan?”

Logan froze at Veronica’s question.

“This is a private matter between men who love you.”

He didn’t know whether to be scared shitless or proud that Keith knew how much he cared for the blond who sat between them.

Who huffed out a breath and looked half-frustrated, half-amused. “Fine. Any special requests?”

“Make it from scratch. With those little marshmallows.”

“In other words, take my time.”

“Always knew I raised a smart one.”

“That you did, Dad. Fine. But don’t break my boyfriend though, or I’ll have no one to cuddle with under the mistletoe tonight.”

“I could’ve done without the visual, honey.”

Scared shitless was obviously the way to go. Logan struggled to keep his breathing steady as his girlfriend abandoned him to his fate and Keith turned assessing eyes in his direction.

After a long, tense moment, a grin split the older man’s face. “Relax, son,” he said, chuckling. “I just wanted to give you your Christmas gift without Veronica seeing it. I have no desire to have my daughter going feral on me.”

Despite the urging, Logan didn’t relax. In fact, he tensed up. “Uh, you already gave me my gift?”

It had been a framed photograph of Logan and Veronica from when they were kids. It must have been after one of her soccer games in junior high, because she’d been in her uniform and cleats—and Logan had had to put in extra effort to squelch lecherous jokes about knee socks and pigtails—and he’d been wearing orange.

“Yeah, that was _a_ gift, but that wasn’t _the_ gift, if you get what I’m saying.” Keith reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet.

Logan fervently hoped the guy wasn’t going to try to hand him a check or, god forbid, money. They’d had several arguments after Keith had found out Logan had quietly taken care of all his hospital bills earlier that year.

“Mr. Mars—”

“I think it’s time you called me Keith, don’t you?” The other man smirked, then held out a plain white card. “Here. This is your real gift.”

Logan took the card warily. On it was a URL, a username, and a password. He turned it over. The back was blank. He frowned. What was this?

“I’m sharing this with you with the full knowledge that my daughter will kill us both if she ever finds out about this,” Keith said, his voice pitched low. “So memorize it and destroy all the evidence.”

“Mr. Mars—”

“Keith. You’ve saved my life, and I know you’ve saved Veronica’s hide a time or two. So I’ve decided to trust you with this.”

“Mr. Ma—Keith,” Logan amended when the older man glared at him. “What is this?”

“It’s access to the GPS tracking on Veronica’s car,” Keith said mildly.

Logan sucked in a breath. “You bugged her car?”

“Location tracking only, no audio or video.” Keith tilted his head in a gesture he must have taught to his daughter. “She is the most precious thing in my life. And she’s like a goddamn beagle, loses all sense of her surroundings or of personal safety the moment she scents a trail and starts following it.”

Logan frowned. “A beagle? Not a bloodhound?”

Keith smirked. “Bloodhounds tend to be trained well enough to stop and wait for their handlers before plunging on after a scent. But why do you think half the lost dog photos posted on the community boards show beagles?”

“Huh.”

“Exactly. Now, I’ve been tracking Veronica for a very long time, and we will pretend I don’t know how many nights she spent at the Neptune Grand back in the day.”

Logan ducked his head, his cheeks heating. “Uh, thank you, sir.”

“My point is, my accident showed me I might not always be able to act as her safeguard. And the past few months—hell, all the years I’ve known you, if I’m being honest—have shown me that while my daughter’s virtue may not be safe in your hands, you’ll do everything in your power to make sure her life and happiness will be.”

He wasn’t sure what to say about the virtue part of that speech, but that last bit? “Absolutely. I would die for Veronica, if I had to.”

Keith regarded him with amusement. “Good to know the navy hasn’t trained you out of that tendency toward drama,” he said. “But the sentiment is appreciated. And acknowledged. So I’m trusting you with this.”

And Logan didn’t pretend he’d failed to hear what Keith wasn’t saying. _I’m trusting you with her_.

It was, quite possibly, the best Christmas gift he’d ever received.

He had to take a moment to clear his throat so he wouldn’t croak. “Thank you, sir.” At the former sheriff’s raised eyebrows, he smiled sheepishly. “Thank you, Keith.”

“Merry Christmas, Logan. Now go help my daughter with the drinks before she gets light-headed from curiosity. And don’t break like a sissy when she starts interrogating you about what we talked about.”

Logan grinned. “I know how to deflect her questions.”

“Son, I have no doubt of that. And I also have no need for details. Really, I don’t want to know. Are we clear?”

He saluted snappily. “Aye, aye, sir!”

Then he all but skipped his way to the kitchen with the intention of kissing his girlfriend senseless. Well out of view of her father, of course.

Even with the older man’s blessing, it was better to be safe than sorry. He was pretty sure the former sheriff still kept a shotgun in the house.

 


End file.
